Fascination
by Alisa Pearce
Summary: AU in 1950s Paris. Celebrated private detective Charlie Swan is hired to investigate wealthy playboy Edward Cullen, who is suspected of having an affair with a rich businessman's wife. Charlie's innocent but overly curious daughter Bella gets too involved with the case. Based on the plot of the 1957 Billy Wilder movie "Love in the Afternoon." #3 *TOP 10 FICS OF AUG 2016* AH, HEA.
1. Chapter 1

_**Summary:** AU in 1950s Paris. Celebrated private detective Charlie Swan is hired to investigate wealthy playboy Edward Cullen who is suspected of having an affair with a rich businessman's wife. Charlie's innocent but overly curious daughter Bella gets too involved with the case._

 _ **Genre:** Romance/Drama/Humor._

 _ **Main Characters:** Bella, Edward, Charlie. Bella is 18, Charlie is her father, and Edward is 30. Other Twilight characters have cameos. No character death._

 _ **Disclaimer:** This story contains Twilight characters and is based on the plot of the 1957 Billy Wilder movie "Love in the Afternoon." Includes quotes and portions of scenes from that movie. I do not own Twilight or Love in the Afternoon._

 _~.~_

 _ **EDIT (Oct 10, 2016):** __We are honored and thrilled that this story was voted #3 in the Top 10 Completed Fics of August 2016 at twifanfictionrecs dot com._ _Thanks so much to everyone! :)_

~.~

Charlie Swan shifted his position against the cold stone of the clock tower, and brought his large camera up to bear one more time on the hotel window across the street. Then he lowered it. It was still too dark for anything to be seen.

He grimaced and stretched his stiff limbs. It was commonly believed that the life of a private investigator was glamorous. However, in his experience, it was filled with long, tedious stakeouts like this one. He had never been involved in a shootout or anything dramatic. Patience was a more valuable skill in his profession than the ability to use a gun or chase down a criminal.

He drew his brown trench coat more closely around himself in the pre-dawn chill. Across the river, outlines of trees just barely leafing out were becoming visible. Springtime in Paris, he mused, often lauded as the most romantic time and place on the planet. A moment later the rim of the sun peeked out over the Paris skyline, tinting the sky a pale pink above golden clouds, and the still-dark Seine painted a pastel reflection of the sky below the shadowed buildings. The saying was likely true.

As if thinking of love in Paris reminded him of his work, he turned back to the hotel across the street and once more raised the heavy camera with its powerful telephoto lens, pointing it at the shuttered window. As he gazed through the lens, the curtains were drawn back and the shutters flung open. A man and woman stepped out onto the balcony to watch the sunrise, their faces illuminated by the rising sun. He focused the camera on the two faces, and clicked.

The man had a shock of messy hair in an unusual reddish color, his features handsome even from this distance. The woman, a tall statuesque blonde, flashed a provocative smile. He took her in his arms and bent to kiss her.

Click.

As they kissed, Charlie snapped several more excellent pictures of the two. By the time the woman had lowered her veil and returned inside, he knew his wait had been rewarded and he had obtained the proof his client needed.

Satisfied, he began the long trek down the stone stairs. The sun was now fully free of the horizon, spreading its warmth over the Paris streets. Slowly, the city was coming to life, the calls of the street vendors making themselves heard in the stillness, the early morning traffic beginning to wend its way along the narrow streets.

It did not take long to reach his small apartment, where he went straight to the closet he used as a darkroom and began developing his film. Within less than an hour he had several excellent 8 by 10s that he hung up to dry on a bit of clothesline strung from wall to wall in the narrow closet. He held one up, the developer dripping off the paper. Yes. A perfect likeness. His client would be quite satisfied.

"Papa?" his daughter Bella called. The two of them lived alone; she had just turned eighteen, and in a couple of weeks she would be performing with her orchestra at the theatre. She studied the cello, and his heart nearly burst with pride every time he heard her play.

"I'm here, Bella," he said, exiting the darkroom and closing the door behind him carefully, one sample photo in his hand.

"Did you just get in from a case?" she called out. "It's so early!" She met him at the door of the parlor. "I made breakfast." She stood tall and slender in the doorway, a heavy fall of auburn hair cascading halfway down her back.

"Thank you, but I don't think I'm that hungry this morning." He sat at his desk and began rummaging through his papers. "But do make sure to eat a good meal yourself."

"Did you close your case?" She spotted the photo he had brought in and swooped down and picked it up. "Ah! What a handsome man!" She turned large and very curious brown eyes on him. "What is his name?"

Charlie frowned. "A sweet and innocent girl like you should not be concerned with the likes of a man such as this." He plucked the photo out of her hands. "Although I have to admit he is responsible for a good portion of my income."

"I think I recognize him," Bella said, placing a finger on her chin. "Let me see…"

~.~

 _ **A/N:** We've seen others post stories this way but it's new for us; a story told in short drabbles of around 500 words a day, updated daily._

 _Please review if you can! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Thanks so much to SunflowerFran for betaing! :) Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

"I think I recognize him," Bella said, placing a finger on her chin. "Let me see… only last week, the newspaper had a photo of the rich American businessman, Edward Cullen, come to visit Paris." Charlie shook his head, refusing to look up. "I recognize him from your files, Papa." She smiled dreamily. "He's certainly the most handsome man in your files."

Charlie raised his head, his eyes stern. "He's certainly the most no-good man in my files."

"How can you say that?" Bella gazed up at the ceiling. "He's forceful, and handsome, and wealthy… and the women all love him."

"Exactly," said Charlie. "Too many women love him… and he is not interested in any of them. Bella," he said sternly, noting her dreamy smile, "you should not have silly romantic dreams about someone who only plays with women he does not love, and who is beyond your reach. Why not think about someone closer to home, like that nice young Dubois boy who seems so interested in you?"

Bella sighed. "Michel is very nice," she said, her eyes once again going to the black-and-white photo of the strikingly handsome man.

"Now go eat your breakfast," said Charlie. "I have a client coming in half an hour, and I shall need to receive him in the parlor."

"Yes, Papa," said Bella obediently as she retreated to the kitchen.

Alone at his desk once more, Charlie shook his head at his daughter's romantic fancies. She was so young and far too innocent for the world around her.

~.~

There was a knock at the door, and Charlie rose to answer it. The man at the door was tall and very pale, with striking, aristocratic features. His long, straight black hair was slicked back from a widow's peak atop a broad forehead. A member of old Italian nobility, the man was dressed in an elegant—and very expensive—French business suit. Although Charlie knew the man's name, his client had indicated that he preferred to remain anonymous. Charlie complied in order to indulge him, ushering him into the parlor he used as his office.

"Welcome, Monsieur," he said, indicating a chair in front of his desk. "Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you," said the man in a cold, indifferent voice. "I am here to hear your final report; that is all."

"Very well." Charlie sat down across from him. "I'm afraid to report, sir, that your suspicions were justified." He spread the photos from the morning stakeout on the desk.

The two were so absorbed in their task that they didn't notice a pair of inquisitive brown eyes peering through the transom from the next room.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N**_ _: Here's Ch 3, with t_ _hanks to our kick ass beta extraordinaire, SunflowerFran! :) Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

The man bent to examine the images, his face impassive. After a moment, his expression darkened. "So it is true," he said. "This is my wife, Sulpicia. She has tried to disguise herself with a cheap wig, but it is clear she has been with this _man_." His voice dripped so much contempt into the single syllable that Charlie shuddered inwardly. "It is a blot of shame on our family name, one I must remedy at once. No American peasant may be seen sullying a member of our family. It is unthinkable." He stood, and from a hidden pocket in his suit drew out a gun.

Neither man saw the pair of brown eyes widen in shock.

"Where did you say this Cullen was staying?" the noble asked.

Charlie cleared his throat. "Uh, the Ritz Hotel. However, sir, I must advise that you do nothing drastic."

The man looked through him. "My banker will stop by tomorrow to pay your invoice. Thank you for your services." With that, he swept out of the apartment.

Charlie stood looking after him for a moment, and then shrugged. There was nothing he could do in any case. It was clear that his client was used to doing everything his own way.

"Papa, Papa, you must do something!" Bella burst through the door from the kitchen and clutched his lapels, her face contorted with emotion.

"Whatever are you talking about, Bella?" asked Charlie, gently disengaging her fingers from his clothing and returning to his desk.

"That man!" Bella cried. "He's going to shoot Edward Cullen! Didn't you see that gun?"

Charlie frowned. "Were you spying on us?"

"Of course not—" She lowered her eyes. "Well, yes. But it's for a good cause," she cried. "We need to stop him, to prevent a crime!"

"Bella," said Charlie, "no crime has been committed. And you should not spy on me. It's best for you if you stay out of my cases. They are not appropriate for an innocent girl like you."

"But Papa," she said, her eyes wide and beseeching, "he's going to kill him."

"I'm certain that it was only a figure of speech. Besides, I'm sure Cullen will be quite capable of protecting himself."

"But against a gun, Papa, no. You must do something!"

"If I went to the police, they would only say that no crime has been committed. And to go to Cullen would be a breach of client confidentiality, and for what? Nothing. No, Bella," he said, shaking his head in warning. "You must simply forget about this, and get back to practicing your cello. No, I don't want to hear anything more about it," he said sternly as she appeared to be ready to object once more.

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _Great discussion in the reviews from last time! I especially enjoyed the comments on realism and_ _ **jansails'**_ _opinions on character names and the culture clash between American canon and the French setting of this fic._


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N**_ _: So glad people don't want 100-word chapters. We are sticking to the original plan of approximately 500 words per chapter, depending on where scene breaks fall._

 _Thanks as always to our beta, SunflowerFran. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

Alone in her room, Bella lay on her stomach on her bed, a frown wrinkling her forehead. She shot a quick glance at the door, then slipped a hand into the space between the wall and the bed. Extracting a thick scrapbook, she laid it out on the pillow and opened it.

Inside were numerous newspaper clippings from the society page reporting on the doings of Edward Cullen. The press seemed to have a fascination with him for his beauty, wealth, and many scandalous activities. Bella's eyes lingered on his handsome face. It was probably quite strange to have such a crush on a person she had never even met, but ever since she had set eyes on his newspaper photo during a scandal in Paris last year, she had been obsessed with him. He was so good-looking, with that lush pair of lips, gorgeous thick hair, and such smooth skin. His arms were muscular and strong… Just looking at his photo made her heart pound, and she became almost light-headed as tingles ran through her body.

Even though everyone said he was a terrible person, she believed he had a good heart. It was as though he were two people, one who didn't appear to have a soul, who constantly chased after women without caring for them and brazenly enjoyed mindless corporate battles for money. And the other, who came out in some of the quieter articles, describing how he donated money to help the downtrodden, how he was protective of his younger sister and volunteered to work with children. She had seen one photo of him holding a young girl who had been beaten by ruffians, and she saw, even in the grainy photo, the kindness and sorrow buried deep within his eyes as he hugged the little girl tightly.

Of course, her father would say she was naïve, but somehow she felt a bond with this man. Strangely, she felt as though she knew him from somewhere; as though she had dreamt of him, or had some hazy memory of him from her past. Somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had sworn her love for him, and that he had protected her, and that she had, in return, promised to protect him. She shook her head. Her father would call those dreams silly girlish fantasies.

She returned her gaze to his most recent photo and realized that he was in danger, now, here in the real world.

There surely must be something she could do to help him! She couldn't, in good conscience, just allow events to go on, even though it seemed her father was determined to do nothing. Regardless of her feelings, it was her duty as a human being to prevent a murder from being committed. There must be something… Her lips thinned in consternation.

She sat up suddenly as an idea struck her. She returned the scrapbook to its hiding place and ran out into the hall. "Papa," she called, "I'm going out to cello practice. See you in a couple of hours."

Her father was busy working on a document at his desk, so he merely grunted and lifted a hand in farewell. Bella threw on her coat and hat and picked up her cello case. Then she slipped out the door and ran down the stairs.

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _Reviews on chapter 3 were a lot of fun! Many of you guessed that Bella was going to take action — you'll see more of her plan in chapter 5._


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N**_ _: Happy 4th of July to those of you in the US! Here's chapter 5, with thanks to our fantastic beta, SunflowerFran! :) Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

Bella stood in the busy Place Vendôme, looking up at the palatial Ritz Hotel, and swallowed. Should she really be doing this? The ornate façade stretched across two sides of the square, fronting the monument of the Vendôme Column. A long row of expensive sedans idled at the doorway, and elaborately uniformed chauffeurs and porters bustled back and forth. Surely a poor girl like her didn't belong here. Then her resolve firmed. A life was at risk. Surely she could mask her fears and overcome her shyness and take action when so much was at stake; when someone's life needed to be protected.

Resolutely, she clutched her cello case and walked boldly through the arched entrance doors into the hotel as though she belonged there. The liveried guard at the entryway, perhaps taking her for a hired musician with business inside, merely inclined his head as she passed through. She had picked up Edward Cullen's suite number from her father's case files. She strode under the grand chandelier and through the impossibly luxurious lobby, the plush red carpet muffling her footsteps. She kept her eyes straight ahead. It was too late to back down now; the man with the gun might already be on his way. She picked up her pace.

Once in the wood-paneled corridor opposite Edward Cullen's room, she paused at last. No one was around. Looking around surreptitiously, she hid her cello case behind a rack of suitcases in the hall. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her hand and rapped sharply on the door to the suite.

There was a long pause while she waited for an answer. Just when she was about to try again, thinking he hadn't heard her, the door opened abruptly and the handsome man she had only seen in pictures stood before her.

He was wearing only a black bathrobe, his reddish hair messy above puzzled green eyes, a slight scowl twisting his full lips.

"Yes?" he inquired, taking in the young girl standing at his door, her hands clasped earnestly together.

She found herself struck dumb for a moment. He was even more impossibly gorgeous in person than he had been in his photos. The bathrobe, tied carelessly around his well-muscled torso, had fallen open, exposing the most generous expanse of male skin she had never seen. Her heart drummed in her chest, heat flooded her face, and she swayed, feeling altogether strange. As she stood there saying nothing, his brows began to lower. But before he could say anything, she finally found her voice. "Oh, Monsieur Cullen, I'm here to tell you that your life is in grave danger," she blurted out.

He scowled more strongly. "What? Who are you, and why are you saying that?"

"Do you know an Aro Volturi?" She put all her earnest resolve into the question so he would have to believe her.

At the name, his eyes widened, and he looked up and down the corridor before motioning her into the room and closing the door. She forced herself not to gawk at the opulence of the suite, but it was difficult. White-and-gold damask wallpaper stretched across the walls, carved garlands looped along the wainscoting, and ornate chandeliers dripped from the high coved ceiling. Heavy velvet drapes were thrown back from floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the square.

She was saved from her moment of inattention because Edward found himself caught by the slender, fresh grace of the young woman before him. She was wearing a simple, dark blue dress, but her shapely figure was hard to hide, and her beautiful hair fell like a gleaming waterfall down her back. Unbidden, an appreciative smile crept over his face.

"Please come in and have a seat," he said, gesturing towards the gold-brocaded couch. "May I offer you a drink?"

She shook her head, still agitated. "Oh, no, no, there isn't time," she said. "You need to take precautions. Do you know how to defend yourself from a gun?"

A smile quirked Edward's lips. "Who would attack me with a gun?"

"I told you. Aro Volturi. He thinks you're sleeping with his wife. He has a gun, I saw it, and he knows your suite number." Bella leaned forward. How could she impress the urgency of the situation upon the man?

"Why would he ever think I was—" Just then the door to the bedroom opened, and a tall blonde walked out.

Bella gasped.

It was the woman she had seen in the photographs.

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _Hmm. Their first meeting isn't going too well, is it? Where is Aro, do you think?_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks as always to our beta, SunflowerFran. Any mistakes are mine. Warning: Sulpicia and Edward are OOC here, but I plead artistic license. ;)_

~.~

"Edward, what's going on?" The blonde woman's forehead creased in a frown as she saw Bella.

"You're Sulpicia!" Bella said. "Your husband has a gun, and he's going to come here and shoot both you and Edward!"

"What nonsense!" The woman put a hand to her hair. "Sulpicia has black hair."

Edward grimaced. "I told you that wig wouldn't work."

She pouted. "I thought you Americans preferred blondes, anyway."

"It's gentlemen who prefer blondes, and I'm not really a gentleman." Edward grinned.

Bella waved her hands in disbelief. "Don't you realize your lives are in danger? He has a gun, a great big gun, and he's going to be here any minute. Aren't you going to do something to protect yourselves?"

Sulpicia scoffed. "Aro would never do something like that!" Then her lips twisted. "On second thought, he certainly would." For an instant her haughty face looked sad. "It's like he keeps me locked up in prison. The only time I manage to escape, and this happens." Her eyes narrowed at Bella. "Do you have any proof?"

Bella shook her head. "If I had proof, I would go to the police."

"It's easily checked." Edward reached for the black telephone on the end table, his long fingers twirling efficiently over the dial. "Front desk?" he said. "Can you please call me if a tall, pale man with greasy black hair comes into the hotel looking for me?"

Sulpicia scowled, and elbowed him hard in the gut. "It's _pommade_ , idiot, not grease. And you forgot to mention he's an aristocrat, you barbarian."

Bella stepped back in shock at the blow, but Edward didn't seem to be affected. Sneaking a peek at the portion of his muscular chest visible at the neckline of the bathrobe, she realized why he wouldn't notice even a wallop; he was obviously built. She quickly looked away, blushing.

Edward waved Sulpicia away, while focusing on his conversation. "Yes? Yes? He's just left the lobby and is coming upstairs?" He glanced at Bella once again, his eyes narrowing. "Thank you very much." He hung up the receiver. "Sulpicia," he said, "he's coming here."

"I heard," said Sulpicia. She pointed at the thick curtains drawn back from the floor-to-ceiling windows. "There. I'll hide there. No time for anything else." She darted behind the curtains and flattened herself against the wall.

At that moment, there came a harsh pounding on the door. Bella put a hand to her chest, and her heartbeat quickened. With a sharp intake of breath, Edward said to her, "You were right. I'm sorry I didn't believe you at first. Now, can I ask you a favor?"

She took a step back. "Uh, sure," she said brightly. "Whatever you want."


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks as always to our beta, SunflowerFran. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

Edward gestured to the corner, where a room service cart set for two sat with a bouquet of flowers and a heart-shaped card. "It's obvious that I was meeting a woman here for a romantic tryst. Would you mind pretending to be that woman so Aro doesn't shoot me?"

Her heart pounding, Bella glanced around the room. Clearly, the most sensible action was to retreat. She had done her duty and warned him.

But who could pass up the chance to even pretend to share a romantic meal with Edward Cullen? Bella nodded. "Of course. I'm glad to help."

Immediately, Edward scooped her up in his arms. She gave a small gasp and clutched his shoulders involuntarily. His muscles bunched and shifted against her body, and her breath came in short pants. The fabric of his thin bathrobe was warm, and his masculine scent enveloped her. Bella inhaled deeply, craving that strange and unknown male fragrance like a drug. Was she mad, to be risking her life for this man who was clearly everything her father had warned her about?

But it was so thrilling. She had never felt a silk so fine against her skin. He carried her to the couch and sat down with her on his lap. She shivered at the careless strength in his muscular arms. It felt so oddly comforting to be held, so intoxicating and blissful to be cradled in his lap with his arms encircling her.

Then he called out, "Come in! It's open," and without warning took her mouth in a passionate kiss.

His lips were soft and gentle as he pressed them to hers, nibbling lightly. Her mouth fell open in shock, and as it did, he deepened the kiss, one hand sliding underneath her hair to hold her head to his.

Bella had never been kissed before. Never, in her wildest dreams, could she have imagined such an experience. His lips, his mouth were softer than heated satin and yet utterly compelling and demanding, engulfing her in unbelievable pleasure. With that first skin-to-skin contact, her entire body felt like it was buzzing; every muscle, every gland, every inch of her tingling, awakening something in her heart for the first time in her life. A deep, primal corner of her mind uncurled and emitted a growling purr of satisfaction.

Bella pressed herself tightly into Edward, completely forgetting where they were and what she was supposed to be doing.

After what seemed like a very long time, she gradually became aware that someone was speaking loudly and repeatedly clearing his throat.

"Excuse me. Excuse me!" The voice was becoming progressively louder, and Edward and Bella broke apart, the dazed look on Bella's face mirrored on Edward's.

Then Edward glanced up at his visitor. "Oh, uh, sorry," he said, a charming and completely false smile transforming his face into a professional mask, the golden gleam in his eyes fading. "Can I help you?"

The elegant, black-haired man she had seen that morning stood before them with an expression like a thundercloud, and a gun in his hand.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks as always to our beta, SunflowerFran. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

A puzzled air spread slowly over Aro's face. "You're Edward Cullen, aren't you?" he asked, lowering the gun.

"Yes. Why, yes, I am." Edward stood and carefully placed Bella on the brocade couch behind him, standing between her and the gun. "What of it?"

Aro rubbed his face with his free hand. "I was led to believe that you were having … an inappropriate relationship with my wife here in this hotel room."

Edward looked around the room blankly. "Your wife? Oh—" He glanced at Bella. "This is your wife?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Aro waved the gun with annoyance. "I've never seen this woman before in my life. Sulpicia is my wife."

"Who?" asked Edward with a nonchalant shrug.

Aro peered around the suite, taking in the romantic arrangement for two on the serving cart until his gaze again settled on Bella. He placed the gun back in his pocket. "Very well, it seems that I have received erroneous or out-of-date information. Good day, sir." He tilted his nose upwards and marched out of the room.

Edward stared after him, shaking his head. "Not even an apology for busting into my room with a gun." He shrugged. "Oh well."

Sulpicia came out from behind the curtain. "Is the coast clear?" She still looked shaken.

"Yeah," said Edward. "Listen, Sulpicia, I think you better sneak out the back way. He might come back."

She nodded. "I'll get my coat."

Edward opened the suite door and carefully checked up and down the hall. "No one's here."

"Right," said Sulpicia. Without a further word she put her hat on and dropped her veil over her head. She slipped out the door, making her way toward the service entrance at the end of the corridor.

When they were alone in the room, Edward offered Bella a charming smile. "It seems as if I owe you one for saving my life. Can I invite you to dinner tonight as a thank you?"

Bella's eyes widened. She had to be home for dinner every night or her father would get upset. "Oh, no, no, thank you, but no. I have to be— I mean, I have an appointment at five p.m. I'm done here now, and I'll get out of your life."


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks as always to our beta, SunflowerFran. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

Bella moved toward the door, but Edward intercepted her and put his arm against the wall, blocking her exit.

He smiled at her, his eyes luminous. "Oh, you're not leaving so quickly. I don't even know your name." He gestured at the lunch cart. "Besides, I have all this delicious food waiting; I'd hate for it to go to waste. Let's have lunch then."

Bella ducked under his arm. She laughed, her eyes darting to the door. "No, you don't want to invite someone like me to lunch."

"Why not?" he murmured, maneuvering so that he was again standing in front of her.

"Well, what about her?" Bella asked, pointing in the direction where Sulpicia had disappeared.

Edward laughed. "Oh, don't worry about Sulpicia. She was fun while it lasted, but now that Aro knows, she'll toe the line. She won't come back." His voice sounded pleased.

"And what if Aro goes after her with that gun?"

"Nah, I know his type. Hot-headed, but now that he's cooled off, he'll punish her through his lawyers. Or maybe in his bedroom. Sulpicia probably found it romantic that he came after me with a gun. I bet they have fun in bed tonight." He waggled his eyebrows.

"Doesn't that disturb you?"

"What? That she's gone? No. I never get too attached to anybody. We're friends, that's all. We understand each other." He shrugged. "Thank goodness she's not like that other girl I met in Venice recently."

"Oh, you mean the one who tried to kill herself?" Bella asked before she could stop herself.

Edward stared. "How did you know that?" He shrugged again. "I should have known better. It turns out I was her first love. Can you imagine that?" He gave Bella an insouciant grin. She noticed that his eyes had changed color since she saw him at the door, and now they were almost black with streaks of dark red, not green as she had first imagined, and shallow. "Never get involved with someone if it's their first time. Women are sentimental about their first love. It never turns out well." He stretched, leaving an indifferent expression on his face, and went to the cart and poured two glasses of wine.

"My motto is: live your life as though you're between planes." He grinned at her with those flat, uncaring eyes. "Isn't that a good one? No entanglements, no complications."

Bella had been listening intently, her mouth slightly open. She couldn't believe that he was truly such a heartless person. She had thought she knew him better than that. She shook her hair back from her face, closed her mouth, and matched his smile. "Yes," she lied brashly, "I completely agree."

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _So sorry; I'm behind on review replies (blah, blah, blah, the usual excuses: RL and my job). I'll do my best to get to them today. Promise!_

 _So what do you think of Jerkward? What is Bella getting herself into?_


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks so much to everyone reviewing, and I'm pleased to say I caught up with responses. I hope I answered everyone's questions satisfactorily. Please let me know if you have more questions! Special thanks to guest reviewer_ _ **Tuti**_ _back with us again, for your comments on chapters 3, 7, and 9!_

 _One note: "planes" in the previous chapter meant "airplanes." Same in this one._

 _Tons of gratitude as always to our beta, SunflowerFran. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

"You do, eh?" Edward asked, absently offering her a glass of wine before downing the second one. "That's good. Now, if you won't come over for lunch or dinner, how about for the afternoon? You have a date at five so you could be here by two." He winked at Bella. "That would give us plenty of time to get to know each other."

"Between planes," Bella said dreamily, sipping her wine. "No entanglements…" It was true; she would never get to know someone as attractive and interesting as Edward Cullen in the usual way… so what would it hurt if she spent a few hours with him in the afternoon? It was time for some excitement in her life. She was eighteen and ready to experience everything the world had to offer. And she knew what she was getting into. Above all else, she must never fall in love with this man. He would never return those feelings.

But she could have a fun adventure with the sexiest man alive. Why not? Then, she could be back home for dinner, and there would be no need to worry her father. Her smile broadened.

Now, if she were going to have an adventure with the infamous playboy Edward Cullen, she had better act like someone she was not. Her imagination churned into overdrive as she pictured the kind of woman he dated. Someone quite sophisticated, experienced, worldly… more like some of the women in her father's case files.

"All right," she said, now grinning. "I'll be back at two. We'll have to make it short so I can meet my date on time." She met his eyes with her dancing ones. "Let's see, it's Tuesday, so it must be Jacob today."

He looked taken aback. "You're dating more than one person?"

"Yes," Bella said, laughing. "No entanglements, you know. Life is so much simpler that way." She remembered a quote from one of the women in the files and tossed it out, matching his glittering eyes with her own. " _My_ motto is: She who loves and runs away lives to love another day."

Edward stared at her, his eyes wide in surprise. For a moment, his irises appeared to brighten to green and gold, then he grinned, and once again, his eyes were dark and depthless. "Yes. Very good. Yes, it's always better that way." He opened the door for her. "See you at two!"

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _Loved all your comments and questions about his eyes. All I will say at this point is that he is human. But I'm eager to hear your thoughts on what might be going on. :)_

 _What do you think about Bella's decision and act? Is she making a big mistake? (Did anyone here do some really stupid things at age 18, especially when a crush was involved? Lol, I'm not admitting anything!)_


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks so much to our wonderful reviewers. I love you all! *smooches*_ _ **Tuti**_ _, it's great to have you back and I'm happy you're enjoying it._ _ **Guest**_ _, welcome to the story and thanks so much for reviewing on multiple chapters._

 _Today's chapter features a little bit of EPOV as some have asked for. FYI, this story will use the third-person shifting point of view._

 _Huge thanks as always to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

When Bella knocked on the door of the suite that afternoon, she was dressed quite differently. Charlie had, from somewhere, collected quite a wardrobe of elegant women's clothing in the course of his work. Bella had selected a few items, folded them into her cello case to hide them while she walked from her apartment to the hotel, and put them on in the bathroom of the Ritz.

Edward couldn't help taking a step backward when he welcomed her into the suite. She had looked so young earlier when she came to warn him. Now, her auburn hair was twisted into a stylishly upswept hairdo, loose curls of hair framing her face with her beautiful large brown eyes, cute button nose, and full, ripe lips that he still remembered from the kiss that morning. Her skin was clear and pale and completely flawless. She wore an elegant black dress with a plunging neckline that revealed an ample figure, drawn tightly down to a tiny waist. At the last minute, he kept himself from staring at her cleavage and once more focused his gaze on her face, only to find himself lingering on her lips. Although he had kissed many women, she had had such a sweet, innocent taste when he kissed her… He reminded himself that her innocence must surely be all artifice as she, herself, had admitted she was quite experienced. A good thing too, as the innocent ones tended to be far too clingy.

Bella gazed up at Edward, smiling. His expensive, perfectly-cut, gray suit showed off his well-built torso, tapered waist, and slender, muscular legs. The color also set off that astonishing shock of reddish hair, still unruly despite his obvious attempts to comb it. His eyes now shone a striking emerald above his beautiful mouth. She blushed as she remembered the kiss of that morning— her first kiss. At last, she finally understood why the first kiss was supposed to be so special. A small, secret smile tugged at her lips as she peered into the room around Edward's broad shoulders.

The large, elegant hotel suite was now filled with flowers, over a dozen, tall glass vases and beribboned containers dripping with roses, lilies, and white carnations. A large table had been set with a wide array of sumptuous food, and several musicians in a gypsy band were setting up in the corner. Edward took her coat and pulled out a chair for her. She stared around the room while trying to look blasé and sophisticated.

"My," she said, gazing at the flowers and the band in the corner. "This is quite a setup. Do you do this for all your girls?"

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _Yes, quite a setup. Is Bella going to be able to pull this off? What do you believe Edward really thinks of her?_


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N:**_ _Hey everyone, I especially loved your comments yesterday._ _All EPOV today._

 _Heartfelt thanks as always to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

"Of course," said Edward, frowning. "Once you find a winning formula, why change it?" He gestured at one of the dishes. "Here, try the duck a la orange. It's quite delicious." He spooned some of the sauce onto her plate. "So tell me, Miss, uh— you really won't tell me your name?"

"No," she said, smiling mischievously.

"It puts me at quite a disadvantage," he complained. "You know my name."

"But surely that's not a problem for someone like you. You didn't have any difficulty turning that deal in Tunisia last month into quite a success. You were at a significant disadvantage at the beginning of the negotiations, you know," she said, waving a spoon at him gently.

"How do you know so much about me?" he said, putting down his fork.

"It's not hard," she retorted. "You're in all the newspapers. All the gossip pages are…let's see… are seventy-five percent about you."

He scowled. "What is it about French newspapers? Always so interested in— what do they call them? Affairs of the heart."

"Now surely you're not going to tell me that American newspapers have no interest in such affairs?" she said, tilting her head to one side and looking at him sidelong out of large brown eyes.

He couldn't look away. She had an apparent artless innocence that he found wholly captivating. Most women who tried to appear innocent or naïve tended to come off as artificial, yet beneath her veneer of sophistication she simply exuded simplicity and unworldliness. As they continued to exchange meaningless banter, something he had always found tedious and annoying, he found himself genuinely curious about her. He attempted to probe her about her life, only to have her deflect his questions with wit and verve, somehow always managing to turn the conversation around to his life.

Before the meal was over, he found himself expounding on how to obtain oil drilling rights in Tunisia, where to find the highest quality parts for turbine engines, and how to select middle managers with the best personality traits for a large corporation. On the other hand, she remained a complete mystery to him.

As the meal progressed, he signaled the band to begin playing. Whenever he hired the band to entertain him and a lady friend, he always had them play the same song, a catchy old Viennese schmaltz called 'Fascination.' It was part of his winning formula. As the gypsies struck up the melody, he thought to himself that it was especially appropriate today. Ah well, he sighed, his fascination wouldn't last long.

It never did.

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _What a douche Edward is. Is there any hope for him? What is Bella thinking?_


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N:**_ _Your speculations as to what's going on with Edward are so much fun to read!_

 _Thanks as always to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

When they finished dessert, he held out his hand, and they moved into a dance in the large open area of the suite. As she placed her cheek against his, he noticed that she was wearing almost no perfume, something that gratified him exceedingly, as he was tired of over-perfumed women. Instead, as they danced, he could smell her fresh scent, a fragrance like the wind over a plain of heather, sweet with just a tiny bit of wildness in it. He shook his head. What was he thinking, musing over the aroma of a woman? Just another woman. He was not given to flights of fancy. He was a hard-headed businessman.

As they danced, he explained this all to her. He believed in being straightforward in all his dealings with women. He always warned all of them not to anticipate anything permanent. After all, he didn't want them to expect something he couldn't give. "Romance, you see, is just another business deal, of a different type." She nodded earnestly. "You just have to understand the rules and formulas of the affairs of the heart, which are quite similar to the rules and formulas of economics or marketing." He made an expansive gesture with his wine glass, and then set it back on the table.

They swung around in the dance, and he gave her a dip with an extra flourish. Her huge, beautiful eyes met his from only inches away, her bosom heaving. The sweet, fragrant scent of her intensified and his nostrils flared. His eyes flickered, and he bit his lip as two different expressions fought for dominance on his face before it settled back into neutrality.

"Oh, of course," she agreed, apparently unaware of her dance partner's inner struggle.

He focused on his own words, fought to make them logical, clear, and concise. "You put in the proper parameters," he said, "turn the crank." He made a rotary gesture with his hand. "And out comes a pleasurable time for all."

"That's very rational," she said, placing her white-gloved hand in his. "I quite agree. There's no need for irrationality or high-strung emotions. They just lead to needless complications. Romance should be light-hearted fun. That's how it's always played for me." She smiled. "Emphasis on _play_."

"Absolutely! It's a pleasure to meet a woman with such a practical head on her shoulders," he said. However, inside, as they spun and twirled in perfect harmony, he felt just a tiny twinge that of all the women he had casually romanced, that this one should be so… practical.

He shook himself.

What was he thinking?

"Of course. When you've been around the block as many times as I have, you know it's just more efficient that way," she said with another one of those intriguing smiles.

The musicians segued into a faster, louder beat, and she fell silent and rested her head on his shoulder. Her hair brushed against his chin, and she fit perfectly in his arms. They stopped speaking aloud as they moved together. The rhythms swirled around them, carrying them on waves of melody and counterpoint harmony, and suddenly they were just two people lost in the moment.

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _More obnoxious Jerkward. But… maybe there's something beneath that insufferable surface? And how long can Bella keep up the act?_


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N:**_ _I promise all questions will be answered eventually._

 _Major thanks as always to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine, especially because this chapter is unbeta'd while she is on vacation._

~.~

The dance was over. Edward hesitated. It was time for the next step in his winning formula, but he felt an unusual reluctance.

Her eyes were alight; in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, her cheeks glowed with the freshness of rose petals newly opened to the sun. He could not tear his eyes away from her. She was innocent. Obviously too innocent for him. Or was she? Perhaps he should make an excuse, allow her to depart. It was still the middle of the work day, after all. He could pretend he had a meeting. His fingers clenched.

No. He had never felt so fascinated with a woman. He was not letting this one get away. Surely she was not as innocent as she appeared.

Before he could do anything, she plucked a white rose from a vase, laughed and ran into the bedroom. Shaking his head, he followed. Certainly an innocent would not take such a bold step, entering the bedroom of a man with a reputation like his.

She had draped herself with casual art over the huge bed, her ivory skin making a striking contrast with the wine-red satin of the bedspread, ankles crossed below the hem of her skirt, her smooth bosom heaving with exhilaration from the dance. He had never seen skin so unblemished; such perfection, so unspoiled. It made him want to trail his lips over her silken throat and mark her as his, now. It was all he could do to stop himself from throwing himself on her and ravishing her. His eyes narrowed. Was he crazy? Such loss of control was not a part of his formula.

Her eyes sparkled up at him. "I always play a game with all my lovers," she announced with a gamine grin.

"A game?" Edward frowned, puzzled. _All_ her lovers? She surely couldn't have too many. Not at her age.

She twirled the rose between her fingers. "They all seem to find it quite fascinating. It's _my_ winning formula, you see," she added earnestly, lifting those huge brown eyes to his.

"Now you've got me curious." He sat on the bed beside her, wanting nothing more than to close the distance between them.

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _What game do you think she wants to play? And what's going on with Edward?_


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N:**_ _This chapter is unbeta'ed, but I've learned so much from_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _that I need to thank her anyway. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

She tossed the rose to the floor. "I always pretend that I'm a virgin." She gave him a coy smile. "The men all say it makes it very exciting."

"What?" he blustered. "I've never slept with a virgin. You're putting me at a disadvantage again."

"Oh, surely, a man of your experience and reputation should have no trouble." She smiled, looking for all the world like a coquettish imp. She tilted her head and stroked her fingers delicately across the soft swell of one of her own breasts.

He caught his breath, then rallied. "Well, that's not fair to me. I would have to proceed very slowly with a virgin, and you know that's not very efficient. Not a good use of my time."

She rubbed her cheek against the silky fabric covering the bed. "Ah, but here in Paris we say that the best things are worth the wait."

He stared at her, nonplussed. For some reason, it occurred to him that he would wait as long as it took for this one. He shook his head again. What nonsense. It was just another dalliance. Light-hearted, as she herself had said.

Why not play the game? It would be different, at the very least.

She arched a dark eyebrow and pursed her full lips. He remembered how sweet she had tasted, how soft and yielding her kiss was, how her mouth had melded to his as her body fit into his arms like it belonged there. His gaze trailed across her creamy limbs, along the curves hinted at beneath the elegant dress.

This was going to be fun. "In that case," he said, inching closer to her on the bed, his hands brushing over the rich gold threads and sliding over her warm, bare shoulders, "let's start the process right away."

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _Just wanted to say thanks to you all for reviewing every day. You brighten my life, which has not been going very well lately. Sophia says Fran asked us to say each day what we are grateful for, and I'm grateful for all of you, who make writing so much fun. Remember, I don't mind constructive criticism, so don't feel like you should only write praise. Tell me what's wrong too! :)_

 _But what is Edward going to do about this? Is it possible that he really believes Bella, or can he see right through her?_


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to everyone for your kind comments. :)_

 _It's unbeta'd, but thanks as always are due to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

"If this is a fantasy, we start with a kiss," Edward announced. "Surely, a virgin has no objections to a simple kiss."

Her tongue appeared at the corner of her sweet mouth. "No objections whatsoever, Monsieur Cullen." He fancied he saw her swallow, but could not be sure.

How could she appear so pure and innocent and at the same time so sophisticated and full of old-world charm? Perhaps it was a quality Parisian women were born with, an innate elegance that suffused the air of the City of Love.

Or perhaps it was a quality unique to this one woman.

He bent closer to her, one hand cupping her cheek, the skin downy and soft as velvet. Her beautiful eyes were wide and dark, and he saw himself reflected in them, his image quivering slightly.

He brushed his lips across hers and whispered, "You're trembling. Are you afraid?"

She inhaled deeply, her eyes never leaving his. "I'm never afraid," she murmured. She looped her arms around his neck and he felt something deep inside, something hadn't felt for a long time. Hadn't he forgotten this kind of emotion long ago?

As she encircled him with her slender arms he wondered why he felt both so vulnerable and so safe at the same time, as though the shape of her body was utterly familiar, as though he was remembering a part of himself that was real. As though none of his life over the past decade or so had been real.

His lips touched hers, and she whimpered deep in her throat. She was silk and satin and the most elegant of roses, beautiful and precious. Their kiss deepened, seemingly by itself, and he forgot all his much-vaunted technique, forgot all the games he was supposed to be playing. His limbs intertwined with hers, and their lips and tongues caressed as though they had been together for a hundred years.

He was not aware that his eyes, normally dark as pitch, were blazing a brilliant green.

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _What do you think is going on with Edward? And what will happen between him and Bella in the next chapter?_


	17. Chapter 17

_**A/N:**_ _Another unbeta'd chapter, but thanks as always are due to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

She gently nipped at Edward's seeking tongue, her teeth stroking his flesh like edged pearls. He shivered and gripped her more firmly. He wanted her. He wanted her with a ferocity he seldom experienced.

He wanted to rip her clothes off. He wanted to profane her, defile that all-too-innocent body with his scent, his mark, his flesh.

Take her like he had never taken a woman before.

Desire shook him to his core.

He never forced or coerced anyone. Despite his reputation as a player, he had always been able to let them go if they changed their minds. It had simply never mattered that much. They were the ones who wanted him. They all told him how handsome he was, how wonderful he was in bed, how much they adored his well-defined muscles, his sleek limbs, his perfect features.

It was fun. Wasn't that enough? He was honest with his intentions; he gave them what they wanted, and in return he had a good time. What was wrong with that?

Deep down he heard a tiny voice, a voice he hadn't heard for a decade, saying something he couldn't quite hear.

The woman in his arms was so enticing. Overwhelming.

The skin of her throat was softer than heaven against his seeking lips. He bestowed open-mouthed kisses from one side of her throat to the other, then licked a teasing trail down her neck. He felt her yielding beneath him, and kissed the soft swell of her breast. His fingers hooked over her neckline, caressed the supple skin underneath, and her breath hitched.

Yes.

He smirked as he undid the top button of her blouse. His formula always worked.

Her hand curled over his and stilled his fingers.

"Oh, dear, look at the time," she exclaimed. "Nearly five o'clock. The afternoon's over already."

Edward roused himself from what felt like a fevered dream. They had done nothing but kiss, but her sweet yet passionate kisses were to die for. He scowled.

"No, it's too soon for you to go. Stay with me," he directed. "Stay with me just a few minutes longer."

She leapt off the bed and checked herself in the mirror. "It would be rude for you to make me late for my other appointment," she chastised gently. "And I know you're too much of a gentleman to be so ill-mannered." She arranged herself rapidly, threw a scarf around her head, and with a lighthearted flip of her fingers was gone.

Only her scent lingered in the room.

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _What effect do you think she will have on Edward? What is he going to do now?_

 _And is anyone out there playing Pokémon Go? ;) Too much fun! It's kind of awesome, and I've actually struck up conversations with people playing in the park. It gave me an idea for an E/B first meeting. Would anyone be interested in a story like that?_

 _Anyway, see you tomorrow!_


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to_ _ **SunflowerFran,**_ _who is back and has beta'd this chapter. However, I tweaked and added more content, so any mistakes are mine._

~.~

Fortunately, Edward had extracted a promise from the mystery woman to return the next day. She visited him in his hotel suite again every afternoon the next week, and he outdid himself each day with more and more elaborate outings in all the best locations in Paris. He took her to tea at Restaurant Le Dalí in the Hotel Le Meurice; they went boating on the Seine one lazy, warm afternoon, accompanied by the gypsy band in a neighboring boat.

He was only supposed to be in Paris for one more night, but he had the sudden realization that his business would do better if he could attend to it personally by staying for another week. It was purely a business decision, he told himself. It had nothing to do with his interest in the woman who had suddenly appeared in his afternoons.

Everything about her was turning his life topsy-turvy. It wasn't going at all like his usual formula, but for some strange reason he didn't mind. Merely spending time in this woman's company was somehow far more appealing than the usual, predictable, formulaic affairs he always felt compelled to engage in.

He wanted to know more about her, but every conversation left him wanting more. She still hadn't even given him her name.

"So tell me," he asked one afternoon when they had returned to the suite. "What's your life like?"

"My life?" She paused, almost as though she were trying to imagine the most scandalous thing she could say. She plucked a carnation from a bouquet on the end table and gazed down at its intricate, white folds. "I'm sure it's much like yours. You know, one party after another, just a string of fascinating men."

"How many men have there been in your life?" Edward edged closer to her on the couch.

One corner of her mouth curled upwards. "Do you mean before I met you or while I've been with you?"

"You know what I mean." He couldn't stop gazing at her sweet mouth, and he wanted her gentle voice to go on talking, regardless of what she said…or how strange she made him feel. He didn't really believe that she had dated that many men…she was much too innocent for that…but on the other hand, could it be possible that she was telling the truth? And why did he even care?

"Well, you've caught me off guard," she said in a teasing voice. "It would take me a while to remember them all. Can I give you an approximate figure?"

"I'm a businessman. I need exact data." He was punishing himself, but he had to know.

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _What could Bella possibly say to Edward about her life? And will he believe it?_


	19. Chapter 19

_**A/N:**_ _Hey everyone, thanks for your awesome reviews! I am having a lot of fun answering your questions and commenting on your speculations. ;)_ _I'm a little bit behind in responding, but I promise I'll get to everyone by the end of the day today. Someone told me not to worry about responding, but I really enjoy talking about this story, and as_ _ **grandmachix**_ _noted, I think it makes us closer as readers and writers, and perhaps even friends. Exchanging comments with you all relaxes me in the middle of the rough times going on in my RL right now. So thanks!_

 _And **Tuti** , yes, she's making up stories, but she may be reflecting her inner personality regardless. ;) I enjoy her humor too. :D_

 _Thanks to_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

"Well, in that case, I'll start by telling you _exactly_ about _some_ of them." Bella twirled the stem of the carnation between her fingers, her imagination racing. "Let me see, how about…number…I think it was four." She cast her mind back over Charlie's case files. She had been sneaking in to read them for years; they were utterly fascinating and so romantic, though often sordid and heartbreaking. She sighed, and her face took on a pensive expression. "Number four…was a riding instructor, formerly a Cossack. Very handsome and so good with animals." She paused, but before he could interrupt, she went on, enumerating them on her fingertips. "Number five, a Yugoslav sculptor. Number six, a bullfighter."

"A bullfighter?" Edward scowled at her in disbelief.

"Yes, he was very brave," she said, smiling into the distance, "and he had the narrowest hips. You should have seen him in the ring, such style, such grace."

She continued, ignoring Edward's glower, "Hmmm, let's see…I would say number twelve was the alpine guide."

"Number twelve!" Edward sat up and frowned at her.

"…Very strong, very blond, and he had the most attractive knees," she continued, gazing off into the distance with a little smile.

"Knees?" asked Edward in dismay.

"Yes, you know they wear those short leather pants?" She tilted her head. "He had cute little dimples right there." She pointed at his knees and touched them gently with the tip of her flower.

He scowled and slapped it away. "So there were twelve, then?"

"Oh no." Bella chuckled softly. "After that, there was the banker from Biarritz. No— wait," she corrected herself. "It was the import-export man."

"Import-export?" Edward said in disbelief. "What did he import and what did he export?"

"Mmmm," she mused. "He imported, umm… rocket fuel and exported, ah, mushrooms."

"Doesn't sound like a very good trade to me," said Edward darkly.

"Oh, he was quite successful and very rich," Bella assured him.

Edward stared at her. "It's hard to believe, you know, a girl your age and all those men."

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _Looks like Edward is finally coming to his senses and getting suspicious. What will happen next?_


	20. Chapter 20

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

Bella sat up and glanced casually at the clock. Surely it must be obvious to him that she was making it all up. The lies kept on becoming more elaborate and harder to believe. Nevertheless, if she admitted the truth, that she had never even dated a man before—

She felt cold in the pit of her stomach at the thought. If he knew the truth, he would say goodbye, and she would never see him again. She knew him too well from all the news articles. It was unbearable to think of him leaving. For some completely irrational reason, she had to try to reach him. Despite everything, she was convinced there was someone worthwhile underneath his shallow exterior.

The moment she had seen him in person, glimpsed those vivid green eyes, it had hit her like a punch to the heart. The connection had lit up her soul. It was as though she had known him before, a long time ago. As though she had always known him.

She knew how he swirled his spoon as he stirred his coffee, the sinews of his long and elegant hand flexing and twisting. She knew the scent beneath his cologne, a primal, male scent that sparked thrills through her core and down to the tips of her toes. She knew the way his eyes softened when the two of them walked past children playing in the park.

There was something hidden, buried beneath the artifice; she was compelled to play this crazy game just to dig it up and connect with that hidden soul.

Of course nothing would come of it.

It was only for a few more days, until he left town, caught the next plane out of her life. She was being completely irrational, of course, but she couldn't help herself. Couldn't she just have a few days with the man?

It was so much better than nothing at all. But at the thought of those days coming to an end, an icy hand gripped her heart. She needed to leave the room or she would not be able to keep up the charade any longer.

"I'm surprised," she remarked with a casual smile, pulling up the strength from somewhere to maintain the façade. "I thought you knew so many experienced women. But look at the time. I need to go." She stood up without waiting for him, walked to the closet, and slipped into her coat.

Edward trailed behind her feeling decidedly odd. He definitely did not like the somewhat helpless craving he felt for her company, despite her far-fetched stories. And it was certainly too soon for her to go. "Can I take you home?" he asked.

She paused and looked straight up into his face, those lovely eyes wide in shock. "Oh, no, it's too dangerous!" she blurted out.

"Why? Are you married?"

Bella frowned. "No…" It was odd, after making up all those stories about imaginary men, that she still felt when it came to the important questions, she shouldn't lie.

"But you live with someone," he persisted. He would find out something about her this time.

"Yes," she admitted, looking away.

"A man?"

"… Yes."

"Is he jealous?"

"Well, let me put it this way," she said carefully. "If he knew I was here…"

"But he doesn't."

"Well…" She put a finger to her chin and looked off at the corner of the room.

Edward moved forward, closing the distance between them. "And if you're careful, there's no reason he should know."

"No." Her face firmed. "I need to go." She took her hat and purse off the end table and lowered the veil over her face. She gave him a sweet smile and evaded his embrace by ducking under his arms with agility and slipping out the door.

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _I'm curious what readers think. Multiple-choice quiz! Should Bella sleep with him? When?_

 _a. Now_

 _b. Never_

 _c. Before he leaves_

 _d. Only after they both know the truth about each other_

 _e. Other ideas?_


	21. Chapter 21

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

 _Hugs and thanks for your very kind wishes for me and my family! Maybe it means I have no life, but right now things are so bleak in my RL that corresponding with you all is the bright spot in my days. Thank you. I believe a little bit of escapism can be healthy sometimes. :)_

 _It was very interesting to hear your thoughts on when (and if) they should sleep together. ;) Here are the results of the question from yesterday:_

 _A: 2; B: 4; C: 10; D: 24; E: 3_

 _A fairly large majority of you wants them to wait until they know the truth about each other. I agree that's the sensible thing to do. But are stories ever written about sensible people? LOL_

~.~

After she had left, Edward stared at the closed door. He pounded his fist against the wall in frustration. He had never reacted to a woman like this. He had always tried to stay away from the young and innocent types; they became too serious too quickly. And then, there was all the tiresome drama, crying, scenes and recrimination. He preferred women with experience, worldly women who knew the rules. You enjoyed each other while it was convenient, then you moved on.

But this one… he felt different about her for some reason. He felt oddly protective of her. He did not want to be the cause of pain or misery this time. So he hoped—he hoped that she was truly as experienced in love as she claimed to be. That she would indeed be lighthearted and careless when he inevitably left.

He had never enjoyed the company of a woman so much: she was highly intelligent, had the most incredible imagination, and was so kind-hearted. Most of the women he dated assumed his philanthropy was performed for self-serving reasons, but this woman had instantly understood his need to protect the weak and defenseless. He had found himself describing in detail the stories of some of the children he had helped, the broken and downtrodden souls he had tried to rescue, and he had seen it in her eyes: she had been honestly interested. She had cared. She was so different from the cynical and polished women—and men—that he usually interacted with.

Although he had never been jealous of the other men his women dated, there was something different this time. Perhaps it was…the juxtaposition of her apparent innocence and her lighthearted sophistication…as well as the _quantity_ of men this girl had been with. More than twelve! And at her age. He scowled. He couldn't stand the thought of that soft skin being caressed by another man, those huge eyes gazing at another's face, those lips… He spun angrily to face the window.

Perhaps she was lying.

Most likely she was lying.

But how could he be sure?

He pictured again her heart-shaped face, those brown eyes thickly rimmed with pale lashes, her fall of auburn hair that he only wanted to run his hands through…recollected her sweet lips and innocent kisses. He couldn't stop thinking about her. It felt as if he was going mad.

"An alpine guide," he muttered, his face darkening. He strode into the bathroom, lowered his trousers, and examined his knees in the mirror. "Hmph," he said. "No dimples."

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _I'm going away for a long weekend tomorrow and it's unlikely I'll have access to the internet. Please forgive me, but chapters will be on hiatus until next Tuesday, unless I manage to snag a spot in an internet café. I'm so sorry! I'll do my best to find a connection, but I'm afraid I can't promise anything._

 _So… how can Edward be sure that she is lying? And is he really worried about his_ knees _? LOL_


	22. Chapter 22

_**A/N:**_ _I'm back! Thanks for your patience, and special thanks to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

Edward sat in the Ritz bar, scowling to himself as he ordered yet another martini. When it came, it was perfect, as it always was in this hotel; just the way he liked it. He shifted on the buttery leather of the mahogany bar stool, staring without seeing the elegant and beautiful fixtures on the wall opposite him. He ignored the man who slipped onto the stool beside him.

That is until the man cleared his throat and addressed him. "Hey, you look like someone who's had a very bad day."

He glared at the unwelcome intrusion. The man sitting beside him was blond, with a fedora pulled low over his eyes, and an expensive but ill-fitting, cream-colored suit hanging from a skinny body.

"What business is that of yours?" Edward asked, eyes narrowing.

The man raised his hands, placating. "Hey, I'm just trying to help. When a man sits here and drinks three martinis in a row without stopping, you can guess that he's having problems. I just want to see people happy, that's all. So let me guess," he said, as Edward snorted with annoyance. "You're having problems with love. Isn't that what it always is?"

Edward scowled into his drink.

"But you know what? I feel for you there. I was once in your position. I fell hard for this dark-haired beauty. An athlete and dancer with unbelievable grace and flexibility, and the _fastest_ woman I've ever met."

Interested despite himself, Edward asked, "A fast woman?"

The man shook his head. "Not in that sense. I meant she was a fast _runner_. I chased her, but I could never catch her."

A picture filled Edward's mind of the skinny, ungainly man running clumsily after a graceful and slender woman loping through the streets of Paris. He couldn't help snorting in laughter. "I'm seeing a woman, and I can't even tell if she's fast. She looks so innocent."

The man pulled his hat down further over his eyes. "Hah, the innocent ones can fool you. You think they're as pure as the new-fallen snow, and then all of a sudden you find the footprints of a hundred men."

"A _hundred_?" asked Edward, suddenly realizing that the twelve she had told him about could be only the beginning.

"Anyway, I suspected she was seeing this marathon runner. He was on the Olympic team and could keep up with her." He sipped his drink.

"And?" Edward prompted, as the man lapsed into silence, staring off into space.

"I hired a private investigator. The best man in Paris. Somewhat expensive, but quite efficient and utterly discreet."

Edward sat up straight. "You're right. That might be the answer."

"Yes…" the blond mused. "It's always best to know. If they're innocent, your heart is at rest. If they're guilty, well, then…" He shrugged. "Either way, you know."

Edward leaned forward. "So can you tell me the name of this detective?"

"Certainly," said the man, patting his pockets. "I'm sure I have his card right here. Ah!" He drew out a small cardboard rectangle and handed it to Edward.

"Charlie Swan," Edward read. "Private Investigator."

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _Uh oh, what do you think will happen to Bella now?_


	23. Chapter 23

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to anonymous reviewers **Tuti, Guest** , and **Stacyisthename26**. We love hearing from you even though we're sorry we can't respond individually. We hope you continue to enjoy the story, so please keep sharing your feedback on upcoming chapters._

 _And of course, thanks to our wonderful beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

Bella lay on her stomach on her bed, drying her hair absently with her towel, humming the song "Fascination" yet again, her eyes dreamy. Charlie paused at the entrance to her room, contemplating her for a moment before he spoke.

"What is that song you're humming, Bella?"

"Just something I heard at the music conservatory, Papa." Sounding distracted, she went back to humming. He watched her a while longer.

"By my count," he commented, "you've washed your hair seventeen times in the past three weeks, Bella. Very suspicious."

She blinked lazily up at him. "Suspicious?"

"Yes, and then there's my observation that you have begun to sleep on your stomach. According to recent research, sixty-three percent of women who sleep on their stomachs are secretly in love."

"In love?" she asked artlessly.

"Additionally, you have cooked twice as much mushroom ravioli as usual."

At that, she sat up, indignant. "Well, Papa, it's my favorite food."

"Finally, there have been mysterious clothing disappearances from our closet on a regular basis over the past three weeks. That green silk brocade, the full-length ermine fur coat…"

She was still indignant. "Everything was always returned, wasn't it?" She lay back down on the bed. He could see she was no longer even listening.

"Care to tell me who it is that you're in love with?"

She glanced away with a secret smile. "Mmmm…you don't think it's Michel?"

"My dear Bella, somehow I don't think so." She was eighteen now and an adult, but she always seemed so young to him. He reminded himself that he had been only eighteen when he had been forced to make his way in the world. However, somehow Bella seemed perpetually younger.

He had seen so much disillusionment and heartbreak in the world, especially in his business. He had had to grow up very fast. He didn't want that to happen to her. He wanted to protect her, keep her innocent…for at least a little while longer. He sighed. He was very busy right now; too busy to give his daughter the attention she deserved. Soon, it would be time to invade her privacy, and find out who this secret love interest was. As soon as his business calmed down a bit.

Then the doorbell rang, and he heaved a larger sigh. "I'm sorry. I'll go answer that. It's probably business. I'm terribly sorry that my business intrudes into your life so much, Bella."

She waved his apologies away. "Oh, don't worry about it, Papa." A small smile crept over her face again. "I'll be fine."

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _Who could be at the door? Points to those who guess correctly. :) And how much does Charlie know?_


	24. Chapter 24

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine. And yes, thanks to guest reviewers Tuti, Stacy, and Guest. :) I appreciate all comments and always do my best to reply!_

~.~

Edward looked up at the modest brownstone on the Left Bank and shrugged. Telling his taxi to wait for him, he ascended two flights of stairs and rang the bell at the apartment on the third-floor landing.

The door was answered by a man in his thirties with dark brown hair and a rugged, no-nonsense face. The man's eyes widened as he caught sight of Edward.

"Monsieur Swan? Sorry to barge in on you like this," Edward said brusquely, "but I have an urgent need, and you came highly recommended."

The man gave a knowing smirk and opened the door wider. "But of course. This is a great honor," he said, smiling more broadly. "Come right in, Monsieur Cullen."

Edward stared at him. "You know me?"

Charlie laughed. "Do I know you? Does an art student know Picasso? This way please," he said, ushering Edward into a small but tidy and well-appointed study. "Please sit down." He indicated a chair in front of his desk. "Can I get you anything?"

"No," said Edward bluntly. "I'm here on business and won't stay long. There's a girl who's driving me crazy, and I want her followed. I want to find out who she is."

"Driving _you_ crazy? That's a reversal." Charlie pulled out a notepad. "Please tell me everything you know about her. Let's begin with her name."

"I know nothing about her. Not even her name. That's the crazy part."

"Well, let's begin at the beginning then," Charlie said. "Where did you meet her?"

"In my suite at the Ritz." Edward scowled. "She's got an uncanny talent for getting under my skin. It seems there are other men, quite a few of them. On the other hand, she might be pulling my leg. It's hard to tell, and it's driving me insane."

Charlie scribbled on his notepad. "What does she say about these other men?"

"One of them is an alpine guide; she met him at a spa in Switzerland." Edward frowned at the memory.

"Ah. I think I might remember a case like this from my files." Charlie went to the filing cabinet, riffled through it. "Yes. An English duchess, age 45."

"No." Edward shook his head. "She's nowhere near 45, more like twenty. And there were others. A bullfighter from Spain. An import-export man."

Charlie paused and returned to his seat across from Edward. "A bullfighter, then an import-export man?" His eyes again flicked to his file cabinet. "This is sounding very familiar. Almost too familiar. What did the man import and export?"

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _Uh oh, are the lies catching up with Bella?_


	25. Chapter 25

_**A/N:**_ _I'm behind on review replies, but am eagerly reading and loving your comments, and I promise to respond to everyone as soon as I can!_

 _Thanks to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

Edward made an impatient gesture. "I can't remember. Something odd." His forehead wrinkled. "Ah, mushrooms, that was it."

Charlie shook his head, a pensive expression on his face. He shot a glance at the closed door of Bella's room. "Can you describe her?"

Edward got a faraway look in his eyes that Charlie had never seen in him before in any of the times he'd had him under surveillance while working for other clients.

"She's…well, she's beautiful," Edward said, his voice soft. "She has the sweetest face, huge brown eyes, and the longest lashes you've ever seen." There was a small smile on his face. "She has long chestnut hair about to here—" He indicated a point about half-way down his back. "And her figure…ah, her figure—" Charlie's eyes widened in amazement as the man actually blushed. "Is exceptionally…ah, well-developed. But she has the tiniest of waists." The man held out both his hands as though spanning the woman's waist with them.

Charlie's eyes narrowed. It must surely be a coincidence. His eyes flicked to the door of Bella's room again. The door and the transom were tightly shut. There must be many other women in Paris who met that description, who had dated or claimed to have dated, an alpine guide, a bullfighter, and an import-export man…who dealt in mushrooms. He frowned. "What kind of clothing does she wear?"

Edward scowled in return. "It's odd. Her wardrobe is always quite elegant, but…almost haphazard, sometimes strange. She wore a green brocade dress once, and then, came to my suite once in a full-length fur coat. In the middle of summer!" He shook his head.

Suspicion began to dawn in Charlie's eyes. "Ermine?"

Edward gawped at him. "Why, yes. How did you know? You _are_ good."

Charlie shrugged and gave him a tight smile. "Sometimes, in my profession, you get lucky."

"Well, anyway," said Edward, "she'll be coming to my hotel suite this afternoon and leaving around five. Are you good enough to follow her without letting her know?"

Charlie quirked an eyebrow. "Did you ever notice me following _you_?"

"What?" asked Edward, looking blank.

"So I'm good," asserted Charlie. He stood up to escort his visitor to the door, a polite smile on his face, but his heart heavy. "Don't worry, sir. I should be able to close your case quickly."

As Edward started down the steps, Charlie's thoughts raced. There was one thing he needed to know before he took action. He called after the man, "One moment, sir. Are you interested in this young lady?"

"Interested?" Edward paused on the stairs, looking back at Charlie. "What do you mean?"

"Are you in love with her?"

Edward hesitated for a long moment, but then his eyes turned flat and his expression careless. "Who said anything about love? I'm interested, yes, but I have many interests."

"I see," said Charlie. "Well, good day then."

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _So what's going on in Edward's head? And what is Charlie going to do now?_


	26. Chapter 26

_**A/N:**_ _I think I responded to everyone! PM me if I missed your question. And sorry about the delay posting. I'm having some problems in RL._

 _Thanks to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

The next day, there was a knock at Edward's hotel suite. When he opened the door to see Charlie Swan there, his eyebrows lifted. "You do work fast. Please come in," he said, ushering the detective to a seat on the couch.

As the man settled himself, Edward asked, "Brandy?" He lifted a cut-glass decanter from a silver tray on the sideboard.

The detective shook his head, his face serious. "Monsieur Cullen, I have the full report ready for you." He held out a single sheet of paper.

Edward stared in disbelief at the thin file. "That can't be very complete."

"Her name is Bella. She's a student at the music conservatory and plays the cello."

"Bella." Edward tasted the syllables on his tongue. "At the music conservatory, eh?" Pensive, he poured himself a glass of brandy, set the decanter back on the sideboard.

"The young lady lives on the Left Bank." Charlie held his hat in one hand, leaning forward on the couch, not reading from his report, his gaze fixed directly on Edward.

"Alone?" Edward couldn't keep a note of hopefulness out of his voice. He sat down at the other end of the couch, his glass in his hand.

"No." Charlie's face was neutral.

Edward's face fell. "With a man?"

"Yes."

Edward lifted the brandy glass to his lips to hide his expression. "Her husband?" he asked after a moment's hesitation.

Now it was Charlie's turn to hesitate. He placed the file on his lap and laid his hat on top of it before he answered. "Her father."

"Her father!" The glass forgotten at his side, Edward's eyebrows climbed nearly to the top of his head.

"As for the other men in her life," Charlie continued…

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _What is Charlie going to say?_


	27. Chapter 27

_**A/N:**_ _Thank you all for your wonderful response to this story and for your very kind words about my RL. And of course, huge thanks to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

Edward's eyes narrowed. "How many?" he asked grimly.

Charlie waited several moments before replying. "Just one. You."

"Me?" asked Edward in disbelief. He sat back on the couch, gulped the brandy, and scowled at the detective. "Are you sure you did a thorough investigation on her?"

Charlie picked up his hat and set it down. He gave a very long sigh. "Monsieur Cullen, I know everything about her since the day she was born. She's led a very quiet life. She's never even been in love before."

"Oh come now." Edward set the glass on the end table, his hand shaking a little, as the room grew silent. Then his mouth hardened. "You mean she's been making all this up the whole time? Why that little— hmph." He pinched his lips together, and let out his breath. "What an imagination!"

"Yes," said Charlie patiently, "she is very imaginative."

Edward got up and paced to the end of the room. He walked back and forth twice, then three times. Then he spun to face Charlie. "I think I'll stay in Paris for the summer, skip the Riviera this year. She's too much fun."

Charlie shook his head slowly. "You've had your fun. Now you'd better leave before it's too late."

"Too late for what?"

"Your record shows that every time a girl gets serious, you run. And she's very serious, so you better start running."

Edward glared at him, outraged. "I hired you to give me information, not advice." Charlie shrugged, but met his stare steadfastly. Edward took out his wallet. "Very well. How much do I owe you?"

Charlie picked up his hat and stood to go. His face was sad. "There will be no charge."

"Why not?" Edward demanded, still angry at the other's presumption.

Charlie pivoted at the doorway and faced him fully. "Because she's my daughter." As Edward gaped, Charlie said, his voice soft, "Give her a chance. She's so helpless; such a little fish. Throw her back in the water."

Then he was gone.

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _So Edward finally finds out the truth. Sounds like Charlie is treating Bella like more of an adult than expected. But what will Edward do? Who wants to see Edward's POV?_


	28. Chapter 28

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

The rain streaked the windows of Edward's hotel suite as he stared unseeing out into the familiar vista. He fiddled restlessly with the curtain pull-cord weights as his eyes tracked the view outside. Grey clouds hung low overhead, and below his window, passersby huddled against the downpour, splashing across the plaza and disappearing into the mist only a block or two away.

He wanted to continue his relationship with Bella Swan, but what Charlie had said was true. He had never wanted to get serious with anyone. He liked Bella. He liked her a lot. But he wasn't any good for her. However, he selfishly admitted to himself that he didn't want to stop; he wanted to keep seeing her.

But Charlie's words echoed in his mind. "She's such a little fish. Throw her back in the water." It would be best for _her_ if he let her go. Broke it off gently, while she still felt she had to keep up the pretense of being a worldly and wise femme fatale. That would keep it peaceful. No scenes.

He sighed. Despite his playboy life, he really had tried not to hurt anyone. For the most part, he had stayed away from the serious ones for precisely this reason. Because he knew they could be hurt. He had not wanted to take anyone's innocence. This jet-setting life of parties and affairs that he had found himself entangled in—it was not really what he wanted.

But sometimes, he just couldn't help himself. There was a part of him, a creature with little conscience and desperate cravings, that he had to indulge occasionally or risk losing complete control. It had been a bargain he had struck long ago, a bargain with that side of him, the part that raged and hungered. The deal was simple. He kept that part fed and satisfied, and in return, he was able to maintain control of his life. Mostly. But it seemed that it had become harder and harder to uphold, and that he was becoming more and more dissatisfied.

His restless hands stilled. He had never met a woman who could satisfy both parts of him. The crazy wild man who craved beautiful and desirable women—and his quieter side, the part that had been submerged for a long time. The part that yearned for a more innocent lifestyle. For the deep satisfaction of a true connection…the kind of connection he hadn't really felt since he was thirteen years old.

His father had always been gone on business, and it had been his mother who had raised him. He had been a sickly child, frequently ill, and his mother had lavished love on him, while his father had been dismissive of his "weakness."

The accident had happened one day when he and his mother were alone in the house. It was the cook's and maid's day off, so he had been especially demanding of his mother that day. He had even argued with her that morning. How selfish he had been.

She didn't come when he'd shouted from his room. He'd searched the house, calling her name.

He found her at the bottom of the stairs, unmoving.

A tray of food lay spilled on the floor. Food she'd been bringing upstairs for him.

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _Sorry, everyone, for the delay. I've been at the hospital for hours every day visiting a family member. But I'm going to upload the rest of the chapters, and if I can't get to them in the next few days, Sophia will do it for me. Thanks for your patience, and I do read your reviews on my cell phone every day as I'm sitting in waiting rooms, and they cheer me up. So thank you!_

 _What did you think of the EPOV? Would you like more?_


	29. Chapter 29

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks for your kind comments! Love you so much. :) I've got good news; my family member is home and recovering. :D_

 _Only a few more chapters to go, and all of them are uploaded and a new one will be posted every day. I promise!_

 _Thanks to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

He had buried the quieter part of himself, the part that had known and loved his mother. He had become loud enough to drown out any whimpers from that part of his self. He'd dedicated himself to becoming healthy and strong, something she had always wanted. He'd overcome his illnesses, even the strangest one, _pigmentosa motus_ , an odd genetic condition that had the side effect of causing his eyes to change color with his mood. It had been a long time since his image in the mirror had reflected the verdant green he'd once seen in his mother's eyes.

He had poured himself into sports, schoolwork, being popular. Developing a success formula by all external measures. Never getting too deep into anything. Never staying too long with one woman.

Caring too much for one person was dangerous.

He'd thrown himself into his father's business, achieving astonishing success in a rather short time.

 _"Sir, I'm pleased to report that your son has turned around the Seattle Division. The financial forecast estimated that it would take ten years to make that division profitable. Your son has begun to turn a profit in only six months."_

He had believed that his life was justified because he was financially successful. That it was all that mattered. Because he had winning formulas for success in business… and, he believed, in romance.

But now he was coming to the realization that he knew nothing about romance.

He spun away from the window, angry at himself. She was an innocent, and therefore too good for him. He would not hurt an innocent soul.

Not again. He would not let his selfish desires destroy another sweet-hearted and kind woman.

And as he thought this, he realized there was more. More than just his desire not to hurt her. He realized he loved her. He loved her passionately and deeply. He wanted nothing more than to take her sweet face between his hands, to feel her soft lips against his, to press that eager body against his own, to _take_ her as his own—not just for the afternoons, but for always.

He punched his fist into the back of the couch.

How long would it be before he got interested in another woman, and again hurt the one left behind?

Before he hurt _her_?

He didn't trust himself. It was better to break it off now before she got in any deeper. If he truly loved her, he would let her go, now, rather than later, when it would be far more painful… for her. He clenched his fists.

There was a knock at the door.

His heart pounded as he saw her standing there, a gentle, happy smile on her face, her eyes alight with what he now recognized was pure love. His heart broke inside, but he steeled himself.

"Oh, hi, there," he said, forcing a casual tone into his voice. "I don't have long today because I'm about to catch the train to Cannes." He deliberately looked away from her face as he saw it fall. "I looked out the window and saw that rain, and I decided just like that." He snapped his fingers. "It's time to go to the Riviera." She stared at him, her face twisting. Again, he looked away. "After the Riviera, I thought I'd go on to Athens. You know those Greek women have the whitest skin in the world."

"Oh," was all she said, and it broke his heart all over again.

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _What do you think?_


	30. Chapter 30

_**A/N:**_ _You are all so amazing and kind! No one could ask for better and more understanding readers. Thank you so much. Things are definitely going better with my family. I'm catching up on review replies and I've really been enjoying all your comments. It's so much fun to talk with all of you about the story, and as always, I appreciate your critiques as well as positive comments._

 _And thanks to our wonderful beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

Relentlessly, he went on. "I knew you'd understand. You French girls have the right idea. Love and leave, no big production, no hysterics, and no mascara running. I knew you'd never cry."

He had never felt such intense disgust with himself before. Why was he doing this?

He really was the cad that certain of the gossip columnists called him.

But if he didn't leave her now, it would be more painful later. It would hurt her more. Besides, she deserved far better than him.

Her eyes were bright. "No. I never cry," she agreed. Then, gamely, she took up the charade once more. "I did cry once. Number 14. He slammed my hand in the car door. That hurt."

Good. She was continuing to play the game. She was strong.

She was so strong.

So beautiful.

He nodded, attempting to maintain a neutral expression, strode to the bedroom and pulled out his luggage. She watched as he threw clothes into the suitcase on the bed.

There was a too-perky smile on her face as she said, "I always had to help the bullfighter with his packing. You know those bright red capes need to be folded just so into the suitcase so they will still swirl properly in the ring." She fell silent, continuing to watch his movements.

He latched the suitcase, and drew out another. He had never packed so quickly. He just had to get this over with.

He carefully avoided looking at her, but he could see her artificially-still face from the corner of his eye.

As he locked the last bag, she broke her silence. "Can I come to the station with you?" she asked.

Edward spun to face her. Her eyes shimmered, but her expression was composed. "In this rain?" he asked in disbelief.

She swallowed, and then lifted her chin. "Well, if I come home too early, the man I live with might get suspicious."

He stared at her, hesitating. It wouldn't hurt to spend another hour with her. "All right."

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _Only a couple of_ _(longer)_ _chapters left! What do you think is going to happen next?_


	31. Chapter 31

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to all reviewers, and to **Guest** and **Tuti** for your helpful comments. Thanks to our beta, __**SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

The rain poured down in sheets as they strode along the platform at the Gare de Lyon train station. Wet and cranky crowds bustled, shoved, and shouted all around them. Edward walked rapidly, a deep scowl on his face, and Bella tagged along slightly behind him, chattering lightly in a voice that sometimes broke.

"I'm sure everything's going to be fine. But it's going to seem a little strange and lonely after you've gone. At least for the first few afternoons."

"You'll be okay," he said, brusquely.

"Will you be coming back to Paris next year?" she asked.

He gave his best effort at an indifferent shrug. "Maybe, if I'm in the neighborhood."

She nodded. "I better check at the Ritz once in a while." Then she caught herself. "If I'm in the neighborhood."

He looked at her and then wished he hadn't. Tears were glistening on her cheeks. "What's the matter?" he asked, hating himself for sounding so uncaring.

She blinked and rubbed her eyes. "Nothing," she insisted. "It's just the rain. It's making my face wet."

She paused and looked up at him. They had reached his platform where the train stood waiting, almost ready for departure. The conductor issued the final call, his distorted voice echoing throughout the station. People all around them were making their last goodbyes and boarding the train, waving out of windows.

He directed the porter to load his suitcases onto the train car, glad for the excuse of tipping the man to avoid seeing her face. He swung up the two metal steps onto the train and then paused. It was agony to turn back, to gaze one last time at her. She was beautiful, even with her large eyes wet with tears, looking up at him almost beseechingly, her smooth skin pale under those masses of auburn hair glittering with raindrops. He took a deep breath and drank her in with his eyes. He wanted to imprint her image on his brain forever.

"Goodbye," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. He couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that he was throwing away the one thing he had ever had in his life that had been worthwhile. Why was he doing this? Then he reminded himself of what Charlie had said. He would only hurt her worse if they stayed together any longer. He needed to let her go.

For her sake.

"Goodbye." Her voice broke, and then she tossed her head as the train began to move. She walked along beside it, gazing up at him as he stood on the steps, hanging on with one arm, slowly being borne away from her.

"Don't worry about me," she said. "I'll have plenty of company. It'll be another wild and crazy year." Her lips spread in a grin that didn't reach her eyes. "There've been so many men before. There will be so many after that."

The train picked up speed, and she trotted alongside, her face turned upward, the rain mingling with her tears. He couldn't look away from her face, his gaze fixed on her wide eyes and resolute smile as she continued, her voice light, only occasionally breaking with barely suppressed emotion. She was so brave. "When you're in Cannes, I'll be with the banker with Biarritz. He wants to give me a Mercedes Benz." Her eyes locked on his defiantly.

"It's a blue one, my favorite color," she said, panting now, running alongside the train as its speed increased. "So you see," she gasped, "I'll be all right. I'll be perfectly all right."

~.~

 _ **A/N:**_ _Will Bella really be all right? One more chapter to go!_


	32. Chapter 32

_**A/N:**_ _And at last we come to the final chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who came along with us on this journey. I am deeply grateful to everyone who took the time to follow, favorite, or especially review. Thanks so much for the encouraging comments on facebook which Sophia conveyed to me, and especially to those of you who were kind enough to recommend our writing on other sites. We are simply blown away by your kindness and enthusiastic welcome. You are the people who keep us going and encourage us both to write fanfic._

 _Of course, special thanks are due to our beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran** , who fixed so many of our errors_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

~.~

She trotted alongside the train as it gradually picked up speed, a gamine smile on her lips as she repeatedly insisted she would be fine without him.

He stared at her, all too aware that these were the last moments that he would see her.

Suddenly, he couldn't bear it any longer. He couldn't bear to be parted from her for a second. It didn't matter that it wasn't right, that she could surely find someone better than him.

He was going to keep her beside him, no matter what. Abruptly, he leaned out from the train, holding on to the bar with one arm. He reached out and swept her up into his arms, lifting her off her feet as though she weighed nothing. He carried her into the train corridor and set her down in a compartment. She blinked up at him with astonished eyes.

"Monsieur Cullen, whatever are you doing?" she asked, looking into his brilliant green eyes from only inches away.

Then he was kissing her, tasting the salty tears on her lips and vowing to himself that he would never make her cry again. He would give up everything, would beat his inner beast into submission to keep her happy. He would never look at another woman because this one was all and everything to him. He had been wrong, so wrong, to almost let her go. If his mother had been here, she would have slapped some sense into him earlier. What had he been doing with his life, trying to fill the emptiness in all the wrong places? The floodgates of his emotions opened, and he pressed her to him, acknowledging what he had been trying so desperately to deny; she was the only one who could fill him, could complete him. She was the only one. He kissed her again, stroked her hair back from her face as the tears streaked her skin, and a confused murmur escaped her lips.

He found that suddenly, even his inner self, the part of himself he thought couldn't be trusted, the part he thought would have to be suppressed, even that part of him seemed to be clamoring in agreement, that all that mattered was for Bella to be with him, for her to be happy, forever, in this lifetime, and beyond.

"Shhh, Bella," he murmured, saying her name for the first time, running both thumbs over her lips as she made a surprised, incoherent noise at the sound of it from his lips. "Be quiet; don't worry anymore." She turned her gaze up to him, her eyes wide and soft. He held her face tightly between both hands and kissed her again, his lips meeting and taking hers as though he were desperate and couldn't get enough. Her mouth was warm and sweet and tasted of something utterly precious, and at that moment he again felt that connection he had shut out years before in fear and panic and loss. And he realized that there was something ineluctably familiar about kissing Bella; it was like coming home. He was coming home, and their kiss was not something new but something he remembered from deep, deep within, as he realized anew what she meant to him, what she had always meant to him and what she would always mean for him. He kissed her repeatedly, and as he drew back for a moment, she blinked up at him in dawning hope.

"Bella," he said, "I love you."

~.~

 _ **Investigator's Final Report**_

 _And so it happened that on Monday, July 7th, 1952, the case of Bella Swan and Edward Cullen came up before the superior judge in Cannes. It came to a successful resolution, and they are now married for life in New York._

 _Respectfully submitted,_

 _Charlie Swan_

~THE END~

 _ **A/N:**_ _So... what do you think? Those of you who've seen the movie, did it compare?_

 _As always, we have a number of outtakes and epilogues we could post. Any interest in those?_

 _And finally, what do you think of the drabble format and every-day posting?_

* * *

 _ **EDIT:** We are honored and thrilled to discover that this story was voted #3 in the Top 10 Completed Fics of August 2016 at_ _**twifanfictionrecs dot com**. __Thanks so much to everyone who voted!_


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